


A Moment in Time

by Anonymous



Category: RoadTrip (Band)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:28:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28666245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Relationships: Rye Beaumont/Andy Fowler
Kudos: 2
Collections: anonymous





	A Moment in Time

Andy is overwhelmed, in the best sense of the word. Rye's hands are everywhere; caressing his face, gripping his shirt, unexpectedly cupping Andy's ass and reeling him in closer, and Andy is still trembling, just a little as their mouths fight for dominance again and again. Andy can smell Rye's aftershave, something clean and sharp, along with hints of generic shampoo and laundry detergent.

"What the hell am I doing?" Andy can barely make the words exit his mouth, his lips are already heading back towards Rye's like they're magnetised.

"You know what you're doing, and so do I," is the retort. Rye's voice is low and rough, and the dark want swirling in his eyes has Andy pulling him back before he's finished talking, sucking the brunet's bottom lip into his mouth and biting, which earns him a noise from deep in Rye's chest. Andy can feel fingers combing upward through his hair, and he tilts his head back into them, making a significantly louder noise as it causes Rye to focus his attention on Andy's neck. His tongue is wet and skillful, making looping patterns up the right side of his Adam's apple, and Andy thinks that he might be starting to have trouble maintaining control of his legs. His hips press forward, meeting Rye's and feeling how very interested Rye is in the proceedings. Rye groans, his breath harsh and hot against Andy's neck.

He begins to step backward, moving them both slowly towards the couch. Andy follows because he can't bring himself to pull away, one hand has a tight fisted grip on the still unbuttoned shirt, the other palming Rye's face. He noses Rye's cheek, almost blindly searching for his lips, before Rye sits down hard on the couch, pulling Andy down into his lap. Andy barely has a moment to coordinate his legs, and he thinks he may have kicked the coffee table because there was the noise of wood scraping the floor and his foot kind of hurts. He really cannot bring himself to care though, because he is straddling Rye's lap as the brunet bites down just below his jaw line and Andy is being embarrassingly loud.

He throws his head back, making a gasping noise as he rocks his hips into Rye's, desperate for friction. He feels hands gripping his hips hard, dragging him back and forth and ohh, Andy is going to lose his mind it feels so good. Andy's hands are reaching for anything to steady himself, his fingertips find bare skin, and he remembers with almost a shock that Rye's shirt is unbuttoned. His hands are at Rye's shoulders immediately, pulling at the material, wanting to see more of the chest that he had been attempting not to stare at the moment he'd walked through the door. Soon the shirt is on the floor, and Andy is running his hands across gorgeous collarbones, bending down to taste the hollow of his throat. Rye makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a whimper, bucking his hips upwards, tugging at Andy's jacket, which is quickly on the floor as well.

After this his hands attack his shirt, and Andy thinks for a moment that Rye will unbutton it, adroit fingers quickly moving down each one, but instead Rye growls, takes two fists of material and rips it open. Buttons scattering on the couch, the floor, and Andy can barely make his brain work as Rye bends to lick a line up his chest.

"Hey, you ruined my shirt," Andy protests weakly, his voice a barely above a whisper as Rye traces a nipple with his tongue and then takes in his teeth. Andy makes a loud breathy noise, his hands finding the top of Rye's head, and he winds his fingers through hair tugs hard. Rye makes a noise that might have been a purr, and Andy will remember to tease him about it later, maybe.

"Like you don't have more... like you don't have the money to buy another just like it," says Rye breathlessly, chuckling, his cheek pressed to Andy's chest. Andy doesn't have to see his face know he's smirking, and he grins as he retaliates with a hard grinding motion of his hips. Rye makes a strangled sound, throwing his head back, watching Andy through half lidded eyes. His hands are on Andy's hips, his own hips rocking upwards. "Fuck," he hisses, "I've been imagining this, you covered in sweat, your hot little hips bucking as you ride my cock."

That is almost too much for Andy's brain to handle, he imagines it's possible for his brain to overheat and explode from the flood of images that sentence conjures. Rye grins mischievously up at him as if he knows what that did to him, and it's enough to make Andy want to smack him if he wasn't making Andy feel so damn good. Andy is preoccupied enough with this that he doesn't register the sound of his fly unzipping until Rye's hand is reaching past the waistband of Andy's briefs. Andy moans like he's being tortured, trying keep from bucking his hips as Rye wraps a hand around him.

"Rye, Rye," he murmurs as the hand begins to stroke, and Andy's hands are probably going to leave nail marks on Rye's shoulders he's holding so tightly. When Rye begins to twist his wrist just right while he thumbs the slit with feather light strokes, Andy thinks he is going to come embarrassingly fast. He hasn't had any company other than his own hand for quite a while, and Rye is far too good at this. He feels his thighs tensing, and Andy bites his lip, trying to hold it back while he reaches for the button at the top of Rye's jeans. A hand grabs his wrist, and he looks up into the brunet's face, confused.

"We have plenty of time, let go, and maybe you can show me how pretty your lips look when you're kneeling between my legs." Andy lets out a choked noise that is somewhere between a laugh and a groan, Rye is tightening his grip. "Andy. Let go."

And Andy does, the pressure that had been winding him up like a taut bowstring explodes outwards through his body, a white noise sound rushing in his ears, and he thinks he might be yelling but he really doesn't care. He pants as he comes back down the earth, leaning forward and burying his face in the damp crook of Rye's neck, managing to unclench his fingers from those much abused shoulders.

"So, how about that blow job?"

Andy laughs weakly as he noses Rye's ear.


End file.
